


Dancing without Suits

by completelyhopeless



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Community: comment_fic, Dancing, F/M, but the image is nice, doubt this ever happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-26 23:03:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2669687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/completelyhopeless/pseuds/completelyhopeless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson asks May about a dance. Her answers surprise him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing without Suits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scribblemyname](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemyname/gifts).



> Comment_fic was doing ten word fills and there was _[any/any dancing](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/575301.html?thread=80396869#t80396869)_ as a prompt. I don't know where the line May said came from, but it was too good not to use both as a little fill and a fuller fic.
> 
> A quick search for what May's dress might have been found [this dress here](http://gallery-actress-beauty.blogspot.com/2012/01/ming-na-wen-wallpaper-gallery.html), which is kind of how I pictured her in the second part of the story. 
> 
> I admit the scenario is unlikely, but I don't think either of them is out of character, just in a situation that wouldn't exist outside my brain.

* * *

S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't throw parties often. It wasn't that kind of workplace. Parties were things for off-duty officers, though fraternization was officially against company policy. Unofficially, everyone knew that even spies had needs and that some lines got blurred on assignment whether they intended to blur them or not.

Given the rarity of the occasion, every S.H.I.E.L.D. agent not in the field made at least an appearance at the party. Phil knew that some of them only stayed for a moment, and he didn't mind, even if he had somehow gotten stuck with part of the work of setting it up. He knew it wasn't for everyone. It wasn't even for him.

“You didn't change the suit.”

He turned around, allowing a smile as he heard her voice. “I didn't think you were coming, May.”

She shrugged, and he wondered what assignment she'd gotten that dress on, since he wouldn't have figured it for her style. If she was carrying a weapon, she must have taken lessons from Romanoff on where to hide it, because he didn't see one anywhere. Then again, this was May. She didn't need to carry weapons. She acquired them.

Or the dress was a weapon. Phil didn't rule that possibility out. “You did. Changed the suit, I mean.”

She looked down at the dress and shook her head. “This doesn't come close to a suit.”

“Some people would say it does,” he disagreed. He checked her hands, seeing them empty, no drink or food in them. “I prepared the menu myself, found the best restaurant. You want some of the—”

“No.”

“If you're thirsty—”

“I'm not your date, Coulson. You don't have to get me anything,” she said. Her eyes went to the distance, watching the couples on the dance floor with a smile he found difficult to read.

“You want to dance?”

“I don't dance.”

He frowned. “I happen to know that's a lie, May. I've seen you do it before. Not only is your form of fighting in some ways almost a dance of its own, but I have seen you dance to blend in for assignments. I'm not asking for your hand in marriage here. I'm just asking for a casual dance that friends and colleagues might have.”

“Assignments are different, and this isn't social. You're wearing the suit. Your work suit.” She folded her arms and pushed up the neckline of her dress, giving him a view he almost regretted seeing because now he didn't know how to unsee it.

“So I should have changed the suit.”

“Yes.”

She left him puzzling over that while the party went on. He didn't see her again, and he figured that was just as well.

* * *

Later that night, Phil sat in his apartment writing up a report on the success of the party. He had been satisfied when the evening ended without incident, though Fury had caught some of the junior agents trying to spike the punch. Why they would bother with an open bar was something Phil couldn't begin to guess, but he didn't think they'd try anything like that again in their lifetimes.

He heard a knock on his door and frowned. He checked his watch and shook his head. He wasn't expecting anyone, though it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility that someone would be here for a mission or something else. Maybe they were even lost.

He rose and walked to the door, grimacing at the cold feel of the wood and reminding himself to buy that rug he'd seen that looked a lot like the cap's shield even if it didn't have the star. He opened the door and blinked.

“Do we have a mission?”

“No.”

“Okay, good. If it's about the paperwork for the party—” Phil stopped himself. May never cared about paperwork. She liked being paired up with him because he did it for both of them. “I know it's not about that. So, what brings you to my door?”

May leaned against the frame with her heels in her hand and a look that almost scared him in her eyes until she smiled and softened it. “I _do_ dance, Phil. Just not with men in suits.”

He looked down at his Captain America pajamas and back up to her smile. “Good thing this isn't a suit, then.”


End file.
